


First Kiss: Something Just Like This

by SweetSinger2010



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 19:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13864068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSinger2010/pseuds/SweetSinger2010
Summary: With the confession of their feelings out of the way, Ezra would really like to kiss Sabine. One little problem: he doesn't know how. *Ezrabine one-shot done as part of a collaboration on ffn.*





	First Kiss: Something Just Like This

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: —inhales deeply— I’ve taken the plunge into Ezrabine waters, guided along by some fellow authors. Idk who's all on here, but everyone's on ffn. Go check out RagnarDanneskjold, TheYellowLantern, ddaulton94, and Lothcat1138—RIGHT NOW! We all wrote fics based on the same prompt and posted all at once: Ezra and Sabine have been together for a while, but haven’t kissed. We all put our own spin on it, with the added task of hiding a prequel quote somewhere in the fic. Be ready to laugh and cry as you read their work—they’ve got incredible talent and incredible stories to tell!! Seriously….lots of laughing and crying. Huge shout-out to those lovely nerds for bringing me into the fold and for facilitating one of the funnest challenges I’ve tackled in a while.
> 
> And in case you wanted to know, my jam while I wrote this piece was The Chainsmokers song “Something Just Like This.” Hence, the title.

First Kiss: Something Just Like This

Ezra thought the hard part would be getting everything out in the open—but no. To his everlasting and overjoyed surprise, when he’d dumbly confessed his feelings for her, Sabine had looked up at him from underneath pensive, drawn-together brows and murmured a soft and hesitant, _I feel the same way, Ezra._

The hard part was now, whenever he hugged her or held her hand and he looked at her lips and he didn’t know what to do with them.

Ezra Bridger had never kissed a girl.

Before, living on Lothal, he hadn’t really wanted to. He wasn’t sure he’d ever really thought about it—surviving the streets had been his main focus. He wanted to _now_ , though. And he thought about it a lot. He just…didn’t know _how._ And he didn’t really want to find out through trial-and-error, either; he’d heard plenty of girls talk, and he knew that if he tried to kiss Sabine and did it _badly_ , things would not go well. This was a delicate thing, and would require a delicate approach.

He was also nervous about waiting _too long_ to kiss her, though, because things between them were still tenuous enough that anything that seemed like hesitation might cause either or both of them to re-think their situation; he was anxious to avoid that. Also—he was really curious about what her mouth would feel like on his, whether she wore lip balm or not, whether sharing that kind of space with her would be comfortable and familiar or burning and passionate. He suspected it would be some mix of the two; there had already been stolen moments and slight touches that set his pulse racing even as he marveled at how _natural_ it felt to be with her. Still—he’d never find out for sure if he didn’t get the ball rolling.

He knew he needed advice, but it took him a few days to work up the nerve and to catch Kanan alone. When the stars finally aligned and both of those things happened, he dove into the subject without much preamble, like ripping off a bandage. “Kanan,” he said, approaching him where he sat in the common room. “I’m in need of some…guidance in an area in which I _believe_ you have some experience.”

Kanan’s eyebrows shot up, immediately on guard. “I’m listening.”

Ezra looked over both shoulders even though he knew they were the only two people on the _Ghost._ “I want to kiss Sabine,” he blurted. It was no secret that the two of them were…whatever they were, but Kanan made a face.

“So… _do_ it,” he said, wide-eyed. “But don’t tell me about it.”

“That’s the thing.” Ezra rubbed the back of his neck, face flushing. “I don’t know how.”

Kanan shook his head, seemingly not understanding. “You don’t know how to what?” He asked slowly.

“Kiss a girl,” he mumbled. “It wasn’t exactly a priority growing up on Lothal.”

Kanan made a grunting sound and took a long sip of the caf he was holding, probably hoping that this conversation would end soon. “So,” he said at last, “you want me to—what? Give you a tutorial?”

Ezra glared even though he knew his master couldn’t see. “Well not when you put it _that way._ ” He sighed, frustrated. “But I was kinda hoping you could tell me what to do or something. I don’t know.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t want to kark it up, you know?”

Kanan rubbed a hand over his face. “Actually, I do,” he said after a long pause. His gaze seemed to meet Ezra’s dead on. “But it’s not something that I can… _explain_. It’s not—there’s no—” He tapped his fingers on the dejarik table, trying to come up with the right thing to say. “It’s not formulaic, Ezra. You just have to go with what you feel.”

“Gee.” Ezra deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “Thanks.”

“I’m just saying,” Kanan sighed, voice edging toward impatience. “It’s something you learn by doing.”

“I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.”

Ezra held his breath as he watched Kanan capitulate. “ _Fine_ ,” the older Jedi said. “I’ll…let me get back to you.”

Ezra grinned. “ _Thank you._ ”

Kanan fixed him with a stern look. “But then we never talk about this again, right?”

“Absolutely not.”

*

Ezra was kind of afraid to know what Kanan had done to get Hera to agree to this, but not so much that he actually refrained from the inquiry.

“I asked _very_ nicely,” Kanan answered. Hera glared at him, silent. She stood stiffly in front of him in the center of the room. Ezra was sitting cross-legged on Kanan’s bunk, looking at them from the side.

“Let’s get this over with,” Hera said through clenched teeth. Ezra felt sorry for her; this was probably her exact idea of hell. Everyone knew how private and conservative she was. In all his time on the _Ghost,_ Ezra had only seen Kanan and Hera kiss _once_ , and that had been right before the mission that had nearly gotten them both killed. Otherwise, there was no public display of affection _ever_. (Though since her capture on Lothal, she’d been just a bit more free with things like holding Kanan’s hand, or taking a quiet moment just to talk to him.)

“Okay,” Kanan said, “you’d better listen carefully because there will _not_ be a repeat performance.” Hera’s cheeks flushed dark and her chin raised just a bit. She looked beyond embarrassed. Kanan glanced over at Ezra before he put his hands on Hera’s shoulders. “You need to know your girl,” he said softly, looking—or seeming to look—into Hera’s eyes. “Is she tense? Probably not a good idea to go straight for the kiss.”

“Not at all,” Hera agreed flatly. She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to force herself to relax. “If she’s uncomfortable, you’re not going to get very far.”

Kanan’s mouth twitched in a poorly-suppressed smile; it was obvious they were having a separate conversation Ezra wanted nothing to do with. “So, what do I do?” He asked, hoping to spur this all along. To his surprise, Hera was the one who answered.

“Communicate your intentions,” she said, almost shy, “but not with words.” Her hands, at her sides now, turned up and Kanan reached for them knowingly, loosely twining their fingers together. He took a half-step forward, zipping up the distance between them, but not all the way.

Ezra’s eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t you guys be closer?”

_“Patience,”_ Kanan said. “If you rush it, you’ll panic, and you do _not_ want to panic. Just watch.” With clinical interest, Ezra _did_ watch as Kanan gently rested his hands on Hera’s shoulders again and then brushed the backs of his fingers along her cheek bone. Hera closed the rest of the space between them herself, looking up into his face expectantly. Her face flushed all of a sudden as she was apparently remembering there was an audience. She pulled back just slightly, throwing a piqued glance at Ezra.

“You owe us _big_ ,” she said.

He held up both hands. “I know, I know.”

Hera shifted toward Kanan again, and this time, he settled his hands around her waist to draw her close. He cleared his throat, business-like, and then titled his head as he moved his mouth toward hers—

_“WAIT! THAT’S IT—THAT’S THE THING!”_ Ezra’s sudden yell made Hera nearly jump out of her skin and she and Kanan both gave him a nasty look, but he _did not care_ because this was the part about which he’d been the most unclear. “So,” he continued, “you don’t just—” He smacked his palms together, demonstrating. “—head on? Somebody has to tilt?”

“I would highly recommend it,” Hera ground out. There was a skittish look in her eye which announced that she was finished with this endeavor.

“Okay,” Ezra said, wisely not pressing any further. “Good to know.”

*

Sabine didn’t know what to do and she absolutely _hated_ not knowing what to do. Being close to Ezra was spectacularly frustrating these days, and not because he was being annoying or anything—

She was just very acutely aware of how…handsome he was, how she could feel the calluses on his fingertips when he held her hand, how her stomach tied in a thousand knots when he _looked_ at her in that goofy, tender way of his. And she was acutely aware of how badly she wanted him to kiss her. How badly she wanted to kiss him.

It was weird.

She’d never really _wanted_ to be kissed by anyone. She wasn’t interested. What kind of thrills could a romantic dalliance give her that a well-designed painting or explosion couldn’t? It seemed ridiculous. Unnecessary. Stupid and distracting, even.

And then she’d found herself on the _Ghost_ where, some days, she’d had nothing to do but study Kanan and Hera and the quiet way the loved each other, complemented each other’s strengths and weaknesses, got angry and stubborn with one another, supported and relied on one another. The thing they shared was unconditional and tenable, and the older Sabine got, the more attractive that kind of relationship seemed. She decided she wanted that kind of warmth and stability—maybe needed it. And not long after she reached that conclusion, she’d started to notice how tall, how mature, how steady Ezra had become in the months after he walked away from the darkness that swallowed him after Malachor. She…loved him, she realized. Or was well on her way to loving him. That was a matter of semantics; they’d been friends for years and now were finally exploring the uncharted space of _more._

But _more_ was coming to a grinding halt, because, really, there was only so much hugging that two people could do. She wanted him to kiss her— _Force,_ how she wanted that now. She was trying not to be too concerned about why Ezra hadn’t tried it yet. Insecurity whispered _Maybe he doesn’t want you after all_ , but sense whispered, _You caught him staring at your mouth this morning, you big idiot. He definitely wants you._ Maybe he was waiting for her to bring it up? And she wouldn’t really be opposed to initiating that kind of thing herself.

If only she knew how.

That she was twenty years old and never-been-kissed wasn’t something Sabine was too eager to talk about, but she really, really _did_ want advice just this once. And then never, ever again. It took several days and a shot of Kanan’s hidden whiskey, but Sabine finally worked up the nerve she needed to broach this subject with Hera—which was going to be a ton of fun, Sabine thought wryly, because the Twi’lek was just as stoic as herself when it came to affairs of the heart.

“Question,” she said, dropping into the co-pilot’s seat. Hera, busy inputting hyperspace coordinates, spared only a glance, which was perfectly fine.

“M’kay.”

“How—” She cringed preemptively, cleared her throat, and plowed straight ahead. “How old were you when you kissed someone for the first time?”

Hera very distinctly frowned, but didn’t turn away from the navi-computer until she had the ship in hyperspace, star lines streaking by. She swiveled her seat slowly to face Sabine. “Nineteen,” she said slowly. The inflection of her voice was clearly questioning.

“I’m twenty,” Sabine said, picking at a fraying thread at the wrist of one of her gloves.

Hera sighed and rolled her eyes. “Let me guess,” she said, not unsympathetically. “You and Ezra?”

Sabine nodded. “I want—I mean—I’d like—” _I’d **like** for the floor to swallow me up_, she thought. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “What if he’s waiting for me to—or what if he tries to—and I mess it up? I’m—I’m nervous, Hera.” She said the last part in such a rush that she was surprised to hear it, and sudden tears pricked her eyes. She blinked them away, aggravated.

“Sabine.” Hera reached over and rested a hand on her knee. “Have you talked to him—told him how you feel about this?”

“Are _you_ trying to talk to me about communication right now? After the five hundred years you and Kanan—”

“Alright, alright.” Hera sighed. “I think you know how deeply Ezra cares for you. That’s not going to change as the result of an awkward first kiss— _if_ it’s awkward. You’re borrowing trouble.”

Hera was right and Sabine knew that, but she still had concerns. “Yeah,” she said slowly, “but I don’t know what to _do._ And I want him to…to _like_ it.”

The Twi’lek smiled knowingly, a warm look in her eyes. “In my experience, he’s going to like it just because you’re close to him. Everything else just…tends to take care of itself.” She turned back to the windscreen, flexing her fingers over the _Ghost’s_ controls. “But if you want some pointers, I can help with that.”

Sabine felt equal parts relief and revulsion at that. “Won’t that be kinda—weird for you?”

There was a wry, pained look on Hera’s face. “The bar for ‘weird’ is set pretty high for me today. Sit tight.” She thumbed a button to activate the ship’s com. “Kanan, do you have a minute?”

_“Be right there,”_ he answered promptly.

Sabine’s eyes narrowed. “What are you—”

Hera held up a finger. “Even if he’s not expecting it, you _cannot_ kiss a man the wrong way. Don’t be nervous.”

As Hera finished her sentence, Kanan walked into the cockpit; Sabine chose to ignore how wary he looked when he realized she was there, too. “What’s up?” He asked.

“I just need you to help me with something for a second,” Hera said innocently. She stood up then, stepping to where he was and pressing her mouth to his in one fluid motion.

Sabine gawked.

But it was very informative. She noted how Hera tipped her head slightly before she kissed him, how she allowed him a moment to overcome his shock before she deepened the kiss and held her hand to the back of his neck. His hands moved along her waist and ribs, and though they weren’t kissing fast—was fast the right word?—it seemed fairly intense and—

“Oh my _gods!_ ” Sabine burst out in sudden horror, half-standing. “Is your _tongue_ in his _mouth?_ ”

Kanan jerked away from Hera, embarrassed, and his sightless eyes darted between her and Sabine. “Are we good here?” He asked, voice just a bit ragged. Sabine felt like that question was part of a private conversation she didn’t want to have anything to do with.

“Yes, love,” Hera said sweetly, stepping back. “Thanks.”

He left without another word, but Sabine didn’t miss how he grinned broadly as soon as his back was turned. “I see what you mean,” she said when he’d gone.

Hera nodded, settling back down at the helm as if nothing had happened. “Just seize the moment and don’t think too hard about it.”

*

The moment came some hours later when Sabine, wedged under some pipes in the engine compartment, felt the soft _thump_ of Ezra’s footfalls reverberating through the floor. She killed her laser torch and swiped metal shards off her helmet’s visor. “Hey,” she called. “I thought you were gonna be on the medical frigate all evening to help organize supplies or something?”

“Yeah,” he answered sheepishly, drawing out the word. “About that. Well—I helped. For a little while. Until I didn’t.”

“What happened?”

He got down on the empty space of floor adjacent to her workspace, flattening down on his stomach so he could see her. “AP-5 kicked me out.”

“AP—” Sabine snorted. “What’d you _do?_ ”

“Ahh, maybe I knocked over some stuff.” He rubbed his chin. “Several crates of some stuff.”

Sabine resisted the urge to laugh wildly at the thought of AP-5’s utter horror. “So,” she teased, “you were banished because you were clumsy?”

He fought a grin. “Shut up.”

She shook her head, helmet clinking slightly against the floor. She waved her laser torch. “I’m just gonna finish the last of these welds and then we can—”

“Wait just a minute,” he interrupted. His arm shot out, catching her by the waist. His eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat; they were both surprised by the suddenness and the intimacy of his hold on her. But neither of them moved. After a moment, Ezra flipped over on his side and used his hand on her waist to scoop her out from under the pipes. Sabine let the laser torch slide from her grasp; she could barely even remember what she’d been doing with it. Ezra pulled her close enough that their bodies were touching. Supporting himself on one elbow, he peered down at her.

“I want to talk about something,” he said hesitantly.

“Well…” She swallowed. “You definitely have my attention.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again; no words came. “Actually,” he said at last, “I don’t really want to _talk_.”

Sabine’s heart raced but she tried to play coy. “So we’re just going to chill here like—” She stopped when he reached for her helmet, carefully removing it and setting it aside. The rush of fresh air against her hot skin made her shiver. Between the helmet and the laser torch and, now, Ezra’s proximity, she’d gotten quite warm—and she felt herself flushing even warmer still as she looked into Ezra’s eyes unobstructed. They were so brilliantly blue. “I forget I’m wearing it, sometimes,” she murmured, referring to her helmet.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I don’t. I always like to see you.” He brushed aside strands of her hair that were sticking to her cheeks and forehead. She hummed softly in the back of her throat, content under his touch. “I don’t want to talk,” he repeated, lifting his brows meaningfully.

She nodded. “Okay, so don’t.” The uneven cadence of her breath seemed to echo in the small space around them and she wondered how Ezra could be so _calm_ at a moment like this, so sure of what he was doing. He traced the curve of her lower lip with his thumb, stroking lightly. He smiled sort of, like he’d found the answer to a question he’d been pondering. Sabine felt like she was on _fire_ , and he hadn’t even really touched her yet.

Their gazes locked and he flushed. “You should know—”

She couldn’t take any more delays.

Ezra never got to finish his sentence, because Sabine sat up on her elbows suddenly, and that put her mouth just millimeters from his; he held his breath, surprised. She hovered there for just a second before she touched their lips together properly. For the first instant, they both froze, but Hera was proved right: everything took care of itself after that. Sabine didn’t _know what she was doing_ , but she almost didn’t need to; there was something so natural about the way Ezra’s skin felt soft against hers, how he responded to her touch when she reached up to let her fingertips skim his neck and jaw. How his mouth was firm and insistent, but not demanding, how she felt feminine and soft and lost in him when he was touching the side of her neck like that.

She finally pulled back not because she wanted to, but because she needed to breathe. She worked on regulating her pulse, grinning at Ezra’s flushed face and unfocused eyes as she took slow, deep breaths. “You said you didn’t want to talk.”

“I didn’t,” he agreed dazedly.

She remembered that he’d been on the verge of starting a sentence that might have been important. “But what were you going to say?”

“Uhh.” A twinge of uncertainty colored his features and he sat up against the wall. “I was going to say—I’ve never kissed anybody before.”

Sabine stared. “Me, either,” she stammered. “But if I’d known it was going to be something like _this_ , I’d have kissed you _weeks_ ago, Ezra Bridger.”

“Well, I’m sure you could do it again,” he said eagerly, “for practice.”

“Practice.” She nodded. “Practice sounds okay.”

He reached for her this time, and she melted against him, eyes closing with a sigh, and she knew, she knew, she _knew_ that what she felt for him was lasting and real and she gave herself up to it completely, forgetting she’d ever been scared at all.


End file.
